


A Case of the Grumps

by lemonsorbae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, Grumpy Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: The angel is grumpy.





	A Case of the Grumps

**Author's Note:**

> [Written and posted to tumblr June 13, 2015.](http://herowords.tumblr.com/post/121413442961/a-case-of-the-grumps)

Cas glares at the empty coffee pot like it’s personally offended him. Which it has. Or whoever didn’t put more coffee on after drinking the last of it has.

Normally it might not be such a problem, but today it is the apocalypse revisited. He’d slept poorly the night before, tossing and turning all night, then woke up to find Dean already gone, had a detestable shower - nothing but cold water - and all he wanted to set things right was a nice, hot cup of coffee.

That’s all he wanted.

Cas’ fists clench at his sides and he sighs, long suffering.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dean’s voice sounds from behind him, tinged with amusement. Perhaps Dean means nothing by the words, but because of the mood Castiel’s in they come off as accusatory. Which Castiel does not appreciate.

“What do you mean what’s wrong with me?” He growls.

Dean hefts an arm full of grocery bags onto the kitchen counter and begins to dig through them. “You look like you’re about to go all Smighty McSmighterson on the percolator. What’s up?”

“There’s no coffee.” Castiel grumbles, like the possibility of having to brew his own coffee is the absolute worst thing that has ever happened to him.

Dean takes a moment to study Castiel, his eyes light and happy, far too chipper for how early it is. (And yes, Castiel considers 9 o’ clock early.) “Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

Castiel huffs. “I woke up on the same side I do every morning, Dean, what does that have to do with anything?”

“No,” Dean says with a shake of his head and a chuckle, “Babe, it’s an expression. It means you’re in a bad mood for no reason; you’re grumpy.”

“I have reason,” Castiel counters. “I didn’t sleep well, I woke up alone - you know how much I hate that, Dean - there was no hot water for a shower, and now there’s no coffee.”

Dean approaches him then, smiling, and reaches out to rest a hand at the small of Cas’ back, pulling him in close. “C’ mere,” he says.

Castiel goes, but he frowns as he does so, conveying to Dean this will not be easily fixed.

“I know I’m gonna lose a crapload of boyfriend points for saying this,” Dean says, pressing his lips to Cas’ temple, “but you’re pretty damn adorable when you’re frowny.”

“I am not.” But the protest is futile, Dean’s kissing him now, and he tastes like mint toothpaste and coffee, and a little bit of Cas’ irritation melts away. Only a little though.

Dean hums, his lips traveling to that space behind Cas’ ear that always makes him shiver when kissed. “Okay, Grump Monster.” Dean says. “Whatever you say.”

“Dean,” Castiel complains, though he doesn’t know what else it is he intends to say. His body’s going lax beneath Dean’s touch, and that’s irritating too as he’s not quite done being upset about the state of his morning.

“You know what?” Dean asks after a moment, “I think we should both get back in our pajamas.”

Castiel frowns. “Why.”

Dean tugs on Cas’ hand, leads him down the hallway towards their bedroom and guides him inside. “Because hanging out in front of the T.V. all day is a lot more comfortable when you’re in your pajamas.” Dean explains, dropping his pants to the ground and kicking them into the corner.

“We have things to do,” Cas protests, but Dean just shakes his head.

“Not today we don’t,” Dean says, “we’re taking the day off. Fuck responsibility.”

Castiel feels conflicted. They’ve never taken a day off. Hunters don’t  _get_  a day off. Yet Dean is tugging his white sleep shirt on and gathering up an armful of blankets as he walks out the door.

“See you in the den,” he calls out around the mountain of fabric in his arms then he disappears down the hall.

~

When Castiel finally decides to be compliant he shuffles into the den in a pair of pajama bottoms and one of Dean’s old hoodies. It’s warm, and worn, and Dean nearly got rid of it a year ago, but Castiel wouldn’t stop wearing it long enough for him to do so. It’s his most prized piece of clothing; aside from his old overcoat.

Dean beckons Cas to the couch, and when he sits he’s handed a steaming mug of lavender tea. “My favorite,” Castiel mutters, breathing in the sweet scent curling into the air. His stomach flip-flops and suddenly not having coffee doesn’t seem like as big of a travesty as it had thirty minutes ago. He prefers tea anyhow.

Dean flashes him a smile. “I know,” he says. “There’s toast too.” He waves his hand at the coffee table and Castiel glances at it to find a stack of buttered toast. Castiel stares at the toast, processing the thoughtful gesture, and suddenly his anger is no longer so apparent.

“Whaddaya want, bee documentary, or Gilligan’s Island?”

Castiel blinks at Dean, silent, and Dean nods. “Yeah, okay. Bees it is.”

When the channel is set, Dean settles into a corner of the couch, patting the seat next to him. Castiel slides over until he’s rested in the crook of Dean’s side, Dean’s hand curling over his thigh, and the down comforter from their bed coming to rest around their shoulders.  

“Sorry I got up without waking you,” Dean murmurs as he moves in to press his lips against the hair curling just behind Castiel’s ear.

“I was being irrational,” Castiel admits, all vestiges of irritation melting away with Dean’s touch (which should be irritating in and of itself, but when Castiel’s got a warm cup of tea, and a doting Dean at his side, it’s difficult to pay much attention to anything else).

Dean catches Castiel’s chin between his pointer finger and thumb and guides Castiel to face him. “Nah,” he says, “you just had a case of the grumps. It happens to everyone.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel responds quietly, accepting a kiss from the other man.  

Dean smiles, tugs Cas closer. “Gonna miss the bees,” he says, averting his gaze to towards the television and settling in. Castiel doesn’t immediately follow suit, instead taking another moment to study Dean’s face as his heart swells inside his chest.

And then, case of the grumps cured, Castiel turns to watch the bees.


End file.
